


Brief Interlude, A

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-12
Updated: 2003-04-12
Packaged: 2019-05-30 11:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15096134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: She liked hanging her clothes next to his in the closet.





	Brief Interlude, A

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**A Brief Interlude**

**by:** Lifeasanamazon

**Character(s):** CJ, Toby  
**Pairing(s):** CJ/Toby  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine and never will be.  
**Summary:** CJ’s experiment...  
**Spoiler:** None, at least I don’t think so!  


She liked hanging her clothes next to his in the closet.

She liked that the porter carried their cases to the same room. And that their toothbrushes sat side by side on the sink, bristles touching.

She liked walking next to him with her hand in his pants’ back pocket. And when they stopped to wait for the lights to change, she could rest her forehead on his shoulder and feel the solid warmth of him.

She thrilled at the smile in his eyes when he caught her looking at him. And that she could pick the orange blossom out of his hair and beard, letting her hand linger with the joy of careless contact. 

She thrilled at the sense of antiquity that surrounded them. The age in the stone, the sighs of the souls that enveloped them. The faith that had built them.

She laughed as they ran back to their room and made love with the rhythm and the stamping and the clapping and the music and the red, red blood flowing between them.

She laughed as she lay in the narrow tub and he read to her of Visigoths and Moors. And menus with ‘pork at the wine’ and fried anchovies. 

And she sighed as he trailed his hand in the water and over and into her.

She sighed as she lay on their bed with the scent of geraniums and the trickle of fountains and he lay his head on her thigh. And she gasped as she trembled and then watched him walk naked, a smile on his face. And hers.

She loved that she could kiss him whenever she wanted. Which was often and, often inappropriately. But she did anyway.

And she loved that she could tell him she loved him. In every sentence and every touch and every look.

The End


End file.
